


When Hope isn't Enough

by namestaybutfriendscallmetrash



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU/Trope Day, Also Sadstuck, Blood, Davekat Week 2017, Day 2, Death, Like Whoa, M/M, Sickness, Tumblr Prompt, also, cursing, heavily based off o another tumblr post, link in the description, tw for:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 21:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11768547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/namestaybutfriendscallmetrash/pseuds/namestaybutfriendscallmetrash
Summary: A quick fic I've had as a wip for a long time, but only now had inspiration to finish.For Davekat Week 2017, day 2 (prompt AU/Trope Day)and it's late as hellHeavily based off of this Tumblr post:http://verycanadian.tumblr.com/post/153365472105/hacash-fuck-me-barnes-sonickitty(The only reason I'm not linking to the source is because the reblogs are important and I recommend you read this post before the fic)





	When Hope isn't Enough

You look into his eyes, still half closed and duller than you've ever seen- pale yellow where they should be the colour of sunflowers, murky grey where they should be as black as the night sky, and a weak pink where they should be as red as the blood that flows through his veins and yours. 

You'd say he was dead already- he certainly looks it- but you know he can’t be. He hasn't said the words yet.

-And he won't! He's got a fighting spirit, and so much time left, and nothing. Nothing! Is going to take him away from you early. 

Not even some crazy troll virus humans have never seen before, let alone figured out how to cure.

Thank fuck for shades, because you're tearing up for like the fifth time today. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” You coo, kneeling down beside his slowly waking form. He shuffles, blinking sleep away.

“B-Bad,” he croaks, followed by a raspy breath in that hardly fills even the small, bony chest he'd adopted over the last couple weeks.

You gently grasp onto his exposed hand and give him a reassuring smile.

Whether it was to comfort him or yourself though, you're not quite sure.

_“He's not going to make it much longer,”_ the doctor had said to you but 10 days ago. _“A month, at the most.”_

You shake the thought out of your head and give the love of your life's hand a brief squeeze.

Brief, because you're scared to break him. He's become so fragile, so small-

Stop crying Strider, you're just going to scare him. Honestly you never thought you'd be able to, and you always used to try, but now all you want is to keep him from feeling the way you do about all this.

You swallow and try to speak in your usual deadpan, totally nonchalant tone.

“This isn't going to kill you, you know. You're going to get through this.”

He gives you a small, crooked smile, and it breaks your heart. Where did his fire go, his fight?

A smile's a smile though, and it's all you want to see. A happy, healthy, sharp-toothed smile.

"Look at you, short stuff. Looks like you're kicking troll cancer's ass."

He coughs out what you assume was meant to be a scoff.

"Well it doesn't fucking feel like it."

Why is he so quiet? You've been here with him every day and every time he talks...

He's just too quiet.

"It's true though, you and your killer sickles are fucking it right up. Just you watch, a month from now we'll be home and you'll be fine, everything will be okay."

He looks at you with near pity in his eyes. That's right, you're the one freaking out about this, he's fine. Everything's fine.

You lift your shades onto the top of your head and gaze into his eyes. You thought maybe they'd look better, brighter, without the shades, but they just stare blankly through you.

"Karkat, you _will_ make it through this. Know why?"

You lean forwards and place a kiss on his forehead, then after lingering for maybe a moment too long you continue in your best comforting tone.

“You're the strongest person I know.”

His eyes widen for a moment, then he smiles as tears start to spill from them. He lifts a shaky hand from under the covers and places it on your arm.

“Wh-”

“Shhhh,” he cuts you off, coughing a bit afterwards. You see a drop of that gorgeous, bright red blood seep out from the corner of his uncharacteristically pale lips and you open your mouth to speak again, but he shakes his head and you stop.

“I love you,” he chokes out, before the loudest bout of coughing engulfs him and curls his weak form into a ball. Blood and tears spatter the crisp white sheets and thin hospital gown.

He lets out a final, impossibly deep exhale as the coughing abruptly ends, and your stomach drops as he goes limp. His hand slips off of you, revealing the now sickening phrase on his wrist- 

**You're the strongest person I know.**

You shakily grasp at his thin, frail fingers as they slip off you in near slow motion, and you try to breathe but the air is as thick as oatmeal and all you can do is choke. 

All of a sudden his hand has hit the sheets, and everything burst out of you in a scream so loud you don't even hear the machine flatline. Heavy tears fall from your face and to the covers of the bed, to your clenched fists, to the bold lettering on your own wrist- 

**I love you.**


End file.
